All the Hidden Things
by glasshibou
Summary: Time heals most wounds, but not for Sarah. Thirteen years after she saved herself and Toby the first time, she finds her brother in a new sort of danger. (Sequel to The Castle in the Woods.) (A loose retelling of Koschei the Deathless.)
1. Chapter 1

From the moment she stepped over her father and stepmother's corpses, her memory was a hazy, evanescent thing. She remembered peeling off her gown, filling bags with the pearls and gems from it. She remembered soothing Toby, whose eye was still swollen. She remembered searching for anything edible in the house, and then anything valuable.

The problem was that she couldn't remember what order everything went in, or how many days she stayed in the cottage-not that she cared to. It could have been three days, but it just as easily could have been three hours. She didn't speak the whole time, aside from shushing Toby. And when the smell of a fire reached her nose, she burned dried lavender in her own brazier to try and drown out the smell.

When she left the home of her childhood, it was with her baby brother, a queen's ransom, and a shattered psyche. A cat and a dog followed where she went; the toad hopped off into the forest at some point. Sarah didn't remember when.

It hurt when she tried to.

She wandered from town to town with Toby, exchanging a pearl here, a sliver of her silver headdress there. All through them she heard whispers of an evil warlock who had cast spells over the townsfolk. And not long after those whispers would come the ones asking where he went, hopeful that he'd never come back. Sarah kept her eyes to the ground and her lips pressed shut.

There were some, she could tell, who wanted to chide the young girl with a babe on her hip, so clearly running from something. She heard those whispers too, and paid them no mind. They tended to stop when they saw the touch of magic shimmering in Toby's eyes, and the haunted look in her own.

She let them draw their own conclusions, and didn't mind the quiet pity they'd take on her or when they helped her slip away in the dead of the night.

Town after town melded together until she wasn't quite sure where she'd come from or where she'd go. Sarah only recognized that they were very, very far from the forest where the castle once stood-or at least, far enough that she started to feel comfortable. One day, not long after that, she came to the sudden realization that Toby had aged. He was walking by himself and talking passably, and mercy upon mercies, he did not seem to remember the castle. He loved Agnes the cat and Ambrosias the dog, but could not remember when Agnes held him in her arms, or Ambrosias carried a rider.

It was probably for the best.

Sarah reached into her riches and bought a small plot of land with a small, abandoned home on it. The previous tenant's family had been driven out after he died in the war, and Sarah tried not to think of all the ghosts that could live in the walls. She tried asking where they went, but her new neighbors told her not to pry–it was better not to know.

When the first soldiers started coming back from the front, Sarah saw herself in their trauma. She knew what it was like to get swallowed up by a memory so real she had to fight her way out. She knew the dreams that could stalk the nighttime.

Her empathetic ear earned her three proposals. The first was to a man fifteen years her senior, and while she suspected his offer was mostly from pity-the people in the village still thought her a tragically unwed mother because of the war, one way or another-it still made her feel ill. She turned him down as kindly as possible, and then did not leave her home for a week, too enshrouded in memories to be amongst others.

The second came from a soldier, freshly returned. He recognized the look in her eyes, and when he talked of the terrors he had witnessed, she did not shy away. She had her own, of course, even if she would not share them. He offered her what he thought was comfort and security, but she thought different. It wasn't that she particularly disliked him, either; he was someone she considered a friend. She told him this, and that she could not marry someone she did not love. She left out that she was no longer sure she could love, not in any way a husband would want.

The third, and final proposal, Sarah actually considered for a time. This one, too, came from a soldier making their way home. They joined the army as a man, and lived as a man, but confided in Sarah before she went to dress the soldier's wounds that they had not been born a man. Sarah understood secrets that cut to the very core of a person. She had her own, after all.

And if it hadn't been for the fact that she thought only so many secrets could live under one roof, she might have accepted. Hanne left after they recovered, and Sarah was sad, in her way, to see them go. Perhaps she could have been content with Hanne, but they were gone. Sarah dwelled enough in the past as it was, and would not allow herself to wonder what might have been.

For a time, the trickle of wounded slowed, and news from the war front came almost to a halt. It felt as if the entire country was holding its breath, waiting to see if the tenuous peace would last. Sarah waited as well, nervous for the day Toby grew old enough to be conscripted.

For a time, things were good.

And then they got worse.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't that Sarah wasn't tired. She was. In fact, she was exhausted, but she couldn't let herself sleep until she'd seen the blacksmith. She had to be the first to see him, so that she could be the first to ask him to take a boy on as an apprentice. But in order to make sure that she was the first to ask, it meant camping outside of the smithy in the early hours of the morning until he arrived.

And so there she was, leaning against the rough stone wall, trying not to let herself blink for too long in case she fell asleep. She had practice ub staying awake, of course; when Toby was still very young, she sometimes kept herself up for days at a time, nervous energy refusing to relinquish her. Her nerves eased with distance and time, but never passed completely. It had been a long time since she fought sleep so fiercely, but Hanne had written her a fortnight ago, and what Hanne had to say put Sarah ill at ease.

 _Find Toby a valuable apprenticeship_ , Hanne's latter said _. They are sending out men to round up any boy old enough to hold a poleaxe. Keep him safe._

Sarah intended to.

Hanne's word was good; not long after they parted ways, Hanne was promoted to Lieutenant, which was a point of some pride. Even Hanne, however, said that the war with their northern neighbors had gone on for far too long, had claimed too many lives.

Sarah yawned and rearranged herself against the wall, tucking the letter into her skirts. The dawn light was too weak to read it again, anyway.

"Karl," she called out crossly to the man making his way to the smithy. "Finally. You are late." He usually was up before the sun rose so that he could stoke the flames and prepare his forge for the day. Today, the sun beat him, if only just barely.

"The babe kept me up late. Colicky. Have anything in your bag of tricks, Sarah?" He eyed her as he unlocked his door.

"Maybe," Sarah said, worrying the inside of her lip with her teeth. "I need you to take on an apprentice," she said, deciding on a direct approach. "More specifically, I need you to take Toby on as your apprentice."

Karl scoffed, and in the shadows, Sarah scowled.

"I assure you that I am entirely serious," she said, frustration creeping into her voice.

"No," protested Karl. "Don't make me laugh. The boy is too delicate; you coddle him too much."

"Even so." Sarah straightened her spine, trying to make herself taller against Karl's imposing height. "I'm sure you will coddle your daughter, now that she is here. May I remind you, Karl, that the only reason you have both daughter and wife is because of me? You owe me. Take on Toby."

It was harsh. Manipulative, even, and Sarah was not proud to remind him that he had almost lost both wife and daughter in one evening. She was also not one to frequently call upon the favors her various neighbors owed her, but desperate times called for despicable measures.

Karl breathed out sharply.

"Too right," he said, sounding chastened. "Send him over with something for Heidi later this morning, and I'll get him started."

Sarah almost slumped against the wall in relief. Toby would be safe; nobody would take him away from his apprenticeship as a blacksmith-the people making the weapons and armor for soldiers were always far too important to lose. It finally seemed that Sarah's luck was looking up again.

In the distance an owl called out, and Sarah flinched at the sudden noise, her nerves still raw.

"I'll send him over with enough fennel to last you a year," she said. "Thank you, Karl."

The way back to her little cottage-in which Toby was still safe and asleep, and would be for an hour or two yet-took her right by the forest. The first few years she lived there she'd refused to let Toby get anywhere near it, and she avoided looking at it herself. Her father, when she was very little, used to tell her that all forests were connected somehow, and she feared that was true. She feared that tucked somewhere between the gnarled trunks was the body of the man she'd poisoned and left to burn.

 _Murderess,_ the little seditious part of her thought whenever she looked too long into the forest. _You killed a man. Your friends would hang you if they knew._

Sarah averted her eyes and looked down at her feet.

Half hidden under the sole of her shoe was a gleaming white feather, somehow managing to cast light in the early dawn gloom. It was weak and pale, but abnormal all the same, even for its deficiencies. Sarah wanted nothing to do with magic; she picked her foot up and nudged the feather away, closer to the forest. She ignored how several meters away was another, as if something were laying a trail for some unwitting traveller to follow.

 _Nothing good comes from magic,_ she reminded herself, suppressing a shudder. Sarah turned her back on the beckoning forest and walked closer to the horizon, where her home and Toby were both waiting. She paid no more mind to the glimmering feather, choosing instead to focus on the fact that Hanne's letter came in time, that Toby was safe and secure in his brand new apprenticeship.

She pulled down the dried fennel that she'd cultivated the year before, and scribbled out instructions to make it into a tea for Heidi to drink. If that didn't help Heidi's baby, then time would, and no matter how much she claimed otherwise, the couple would give her credit all the same.

Although once or twice someone had asked her to use her herblore to harm someone, she never did. It was more than possible, but the thought made her feel sick. The fennel, at least, looked nothing like the henbane she'd used to…

Sarah's hands stilled in their task. It wouldn't do to have her thoughts clouded all day; Toby would know that something was wrong. He'd ask about it, and Sarah would have to tell him half-truths about why him being in any sort of remote danger made her nervous and jumpy.

The sleep she didn't have that night tugged at her eyelids, and it was with relief that she heard Toby rise and begin his day.

"You'd best get a move on," she shouted in his general direction. "You have things to do today, and none of them involve lounging around!"

Not that he was given to idleness anyway. For all that Karl claimed that she coddled him-and for all that it was the truth-her brother still had a strong work ethic. Still it wouldn't be good for him to show up to his new apprenticeship late.

"Take this over to Karl and Heidi," she directed, handing the bundles of dried fennel over to him. "You've got an apprenticeship, and Karl doesn't want you to be late."

Excitement and worry vied for dominance in his expression.

"That will take up a lot of time," he pointed out. "Who is going to help you with the land?"

They'd just put in an expansive garden-perhaps something more along the lines of a very small farm, actually-and his point was valid. Still, Sarah shook her head at him.

"Don't worry about that. The apprenticeship is more important, and I know you don't like tilling the garden anyway. Collect some of your things and then go over to the smithy. I'm sure Karl already has some things lined up for you to do."

Toby still frowned a little, but he nodded his head and took the fennel anyway. He pretended not to notice that the tea Sarah mixed for herself was one meant to fend off dreams, gave her a small, one-armed hug, and told her that he would see her later. Sarah hugged him back and told him that she would stop by later with something for him and Karl to eat, but what she really meant was that she wanted to check up on him.

Whether he knew that or not, he gave her one final nod before walking out the door.

Sarah sat down heavily in the wooden chair at the table, taking a sip of her bitter drink. It still made her pull a face, even if she was accustomed to the taste. Still, it would allow her at least a few hours of restful sleep, and for that she couldn't be more grateful.

She let herself curl up in bed, tea drained, and dreamed of nothing.

When she woke it was late afternoon, and for a moment she wondered why should couldn't hear Toby puttering around. The early morning felt like it had been years ago, and Sarah stretched in her bed, rubbing where she slept awkwardly on her neck. Like any change, having Toby gone during the day would take some getting used to.

Sarah stood and freshened herself up, packing something easy to take to Karl and Toby to eat. The walk back to the blacksmith's was cool and oddly quiet. Sarah lived at the edge of the village's hubbub, and so there was rarely any noise made by too many people, but there should still have been birdsong or bugs humming. Early autumn should have been noisier, as the smaller creatures spent the last few weeks of warmth preparing for the oncoming winter.

But…

Sarah paused, shifting her basket to her other hand. Nothing. She thought that maybe if she tried to, she might be able to hear her own heartbeat. The forest being silent had never brought good tidings.

She picked up her pace, almost jogging to make it to Karl's before she could come up with any awful answer for the quiet.

Karl was alone at the open forge, which did not worry Sarah until he looked up and seemed surprised to see her.

"Thank you for the fennel," he said cautiously, as if he was waiting for an angry tongue lashing. Sarah glanced around the forge, her brows furrowed.

"Where is Toby?" she asked, holding out the basket for Karl to take. The blacksmith put his tools down and brushed off his hands, but some of the ash remained.

"That's the thing; I thought he was with you," Karl said slowly, not looking her in the eye. "A man stopped by and asked to speak with him. I just assumed… The man had a strange eye," Karl said, as if that would explain everything. "Not that Toby has a strange eye, of course," Karl was quick to add, noticing how Sarah's face drained of color and misinterpreting.

"They just looked so similar, and I thought that perhaps they had both gone home to you. And with the boy's father being a mystery, I assumed… Sarah, are you okay?"

Sarah was not okay. Her fingers felt numb, and she basket full of food dropped from her grasp and bounced against the ground, spilling some of its contents. There was only one man she knew of with strange eyes like Toby's. He happened to be the same man who gave Toby his swollen iris.

The same one she'd left poisoned and dying in a burning room.

"No," she croaked. "No, no." Tears pricked in her eyes, which only made her angry. She didn't want to be angry at Karl-he hadn't known any better, and hadn't she thought herself so clever in keeping her secret?-and she couldn't be angry with Toby, who was just as ignorant. That left herself to direct all of her bitter grief at.

"Don't touch me," she ground out, teeth clenched, when Karl reached out to steady her. It was only then that she noticed she was swaying slightly. "I'm sorry," she added, reminding herself that she could not be angry with her friend. "I just… Please, do not touch me right now." The thought of any man touching her at the moment-even a dear friend-was enough to make her shudder.

"Sarah," Karl said slowly, speaking as if he might to a spooked horse. "Who is this man? Did he hurt you? Did he…" The question dropped off into the air, as if Karl was too afraid of reminding her of what he thought was her shame.

"Yes," she whispered. "He hurt me. He…" She swallowed hard, but it felt like her throat was filled with cinders. "He can't have Toby."

"He won't," Karl said, still trying to soothe her. His eyes were wide and he held his hands at a distance, clearly struggling with not being able to at least hug her. "Me and some of the other men will hunt him down and get Toby back for you, I promise."

Sarah inhaled sharply, visions of her murdered parents swimming in her memories.

"No," she told him sharply. "No, you can't. You'll only get hurt. All of you. Don't." Any words she might have used to explain the situation to him withered and died on her tongue, leaving her with her clipped orders. She backed a few paces away from Karl, as if her bad luck were a miasma he might get caught in.

"This is something I have to do myself."

Before Karl could attempt to detain her any further, Sarah dashed away and towards the very place she never wished to enter again.

The forest.


	3. Chapter 3

The trail of feathers took her deeper and deeper into the forest, further than she'd even dared to dream of going. The trees grew closer and closer together, the underbrush thicker, until sunlight was barely able to filter down to her. The gloom swallowed everything but the feathers, which grew brighter—bright enough to make a path.

 _Little mouse,_ she thought she heard someone call, but it had to have been the leaves rustling. There was nobody nearby, but her skin erupted with goosebumps all the same.

Sarah picked up one of the feathers and ran her fingers against its soft edge. It was strangely cool, as if it had been stored, somehow, with ice. She let it slip through her fingers and brushed them off on her thighs, as if the magic might bite her. It wouldn't be the first time something magical harmed her, and she doubted it would be the last, or anywhere near the last. Sarah grimaced and pushed a small branch out of her way, letting it swing back behind her.

Every step forward seemed to make it grow darker and darker, but, she supposed, that _was_ why they called it the Black Forest…

She paused, trying to get her bearings, and that was when he made himself known.

"Hello, Sarah," he said, dragging a gloved finger from her right shoulder, across the back of her neck, and off her left shoulder. She'd known he would appear sooner or later. Some part of her even knew that he had to be somewhere nearby. Still, her heart thundered in her chest and she flinched at his touch. Seeing him—to have visible proof that she tried to burn a man alive—should have been worse, she was sure of it. Burns like that, like what he had to have suffered, rarely healed well. Knowing this, Sarah steeled herself so that she would not cower when she had to meet his eyes. She clenched her fists, preparing for the worse, and came face to face with-

-Unblemished, unscarred skin.

He didn't even look like he'd aged. In his hand—the hand that hadn't _touched her_ she thought with a shudder—he held a bird, the source of the glowing feathers. It sat, unmoving and defeated, as he stroked it from head to tattered tail.

"It is rude to ignore a greeting, Sarah," he said, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. She tore her eyes from his face and looked again at the bird. Was it even breathing? She couldn't tell. The poor thing was missing feathers, as was to be expected, and bleeding where they had been torn out less-than-gently. As Sarah watched, his fingers twisted around a stiff flight feather, and with a quick jerk of his wrist, he tore it from the bird's flesh.

The bird still ddid not move, and the image made Sarah's bottom lip quiver. When he pulled out another feather with a violent twist, she looked away, into the foliage behind his right shoulder.

Sarah stared ahead of her, refusing the blink, as he took two paces towards her. _He isn't here, he isn't here, he isn't here_ , she told herself as he grabbed her wrist and held her hand out flat, palm up. She tried not to feel the warm, slowly oozing blood of the bird as he placed in her hands, a macabre gift.

A tear leaked out and she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him or the dying bird.

Jareth, unseen to her, grinned and slipped one of the bird's flight feathers into her hair, behind an ear.

"Not quite what you were expecting to see, am I little mouse? I think not."

Sarah opened her eyes in time to see his grin strengthen, teeth bared and menacing and so, so sharp. She worked hard to keep her face carefully blank, save for the tear sliding down her cheek.

"Where is Toby?" she asked. He clicked his tongue again and tilted his head to the side.

"No, no. I have been planning our reunion for far too long, Sarah. I will not let you spoil it."

She tensed when he used her name—her real name—and he broke into another smile before continuing.

"I will admit that I was… indisposed for quite a long time. Your little trick with the henbane certainly was clever, but not your own idea, I think. Now, the fire…" his eyes gleamed. "My, my. That _was_ inspired! I feel no shame in admitting that _that_ took me quite a long time to come back from. After all, it is just the two of us here, in so cosy and intimate an environment. And because we are so _close,_ I will assuage your curiosity and ruin any treacherous plans you might be plotting at the moment."

Sarah scowled at him, which he only seemed to find amusing.

"You did not kill me, Sarah, because my death is hidden far, far away. Somewhere you would never think to retrieve it. You didn't really think I would leave such a pesky thing so close at hand, did you?" He winked at her conspiratorially.

Sarah swallowed, and then remembered she had to at least act brave.

"I don't care," she bit out. "Tell me what you've done with Toby."

"As single-minded as ever, dearest. Tell me: what say you to a game?" He smiled at her, a galling expression that made her wish she was brave enough to strike him.

"I-"

"Want Toby back. Yes, yes, I am aware, but _do_ try to keep up. He is your prize, after all." He half chuckled when she looked at him sharply. "I see I have your full attention now," he drawled out.

"And if I lose?" Sarah asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"I get to keep you, of course. As I would have, were it not for your stubbornness. But I realized something then, burning on my bedroom floor; something kept must _know_ it is kept, which you refused to accept. I anticipate that this game will make the transition… easier."

Sarah's stomach turned at the thought of being something he considered his, and held the bird up to her chest to hide her shaking hands. Whatever the game was, he would not play fair. That was certain. if she decided against playing, she might be safe… for a time. Until he next got bored, perhaps. But that would forfeit Toby, which was unacceptable.

"And is that why you aren't forcing me to go with you right now? You know my name," she pointed out. "I would hate you either way."

A mock expression of hurt travelled across his face, and Sarah had to resist the urge to snort at his theatrics.

"I am a generous man, Sarah. How you have yet to see that is beyond me, but I have no doubt that you will in time. You need only to say the words."

Sarah licked her lips, frowned, and then sighed.

"What are the terms?"

He smiled again, but there was no kindness to be found in his face.

"Simple enough, Sarah," he told her. "Find my death. I will release Toby to you when you hold it in your hands. If you so choose at that time, you may leave and have my blessings to live your… mortal life." He spat out the last words like they were a curse, but they sounded like a blessing to Sarah.

But it sounded like a trap; there was no way he would allow her to discover his death. Not when she would surely finish the job this time. While she hadn't relished the idea of being a murderer, she'd already grieved her innocence. And to find out now that she had wasted all of those years?

"It seems too great a risk for you to take. Why allow me the chance to harm you? Again?" She made her last word pointed. Sharp. Hoping he'd remember what it felt like to feel his flesh cook while poison swirled through his veins.

His smile dimmed, his lips pulled further back from his teeth, and in their too-sharp tips she saw her own demise. Oh, he probably wouldn't kill her. In fact, it was likely he would keep her alive for as long as possible. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought that he might steal away her _own_ death and trap her with him. Forever.

"It is not so great a risk as you think, dear Sarah. Least of all where you are concerned. Now. Shall we play my game?"

She knew that she would have to say yes. Whatever happened to her, she could not leave her brother in the clutches of so vile a man. She knew it just as she knew that he would cheat, somehow, if he wasn't already.

Wishing that she'd never stumbled upon the castle—as she had done innumerable times over the years—Sarah nodded her head.

"Say it. I need you to say it."

"You _want_ me to say it. You don't _need_ me to do anything; you don't know the difference," Sarah said with a scowl. When he moved toward her, a snarl on his face, Sarah held the bird closer to her chest to shield it. She'd provoked him, as she knew she would with her words; still, there was no reason to let the poor thing get hurt in the crossfire. It had been through enough abuse.

"You have no idea," he hissed face so close to hers that she felt his warm breath ghost across her cheeks, "what it is that I want or need. Just as you have no idea of the lengths I will go to obtain it."

Sarah tried to keep her face carefully neutral, even as he swiped a thumb over her left cheek. Still, she refused to break eye contact with him. He already knew she was afraid; Sarah refused to let him know just how terrified she really was. Time might have passed, but her stubborn streak hadn't.

As if deprived of the reaction he'd been hoping for (which, Sarah thought, was not likely that far from the truth) he let go of her face and straightened himself. Riding the swell of confidence from her modest victory, she was pleased to notice that he was no longer _that_ much taller than her.

"I believe this conversation is over," he said, ignoring the faint smile on Sarah's lips if he noticed it at all. "You will need it, so I bid you good luck on your quest."

He grew faint around his edges, the way he always did in her nightmares. And there was his sharp grin again; Sarah curled her hands into fists, resisting the urge to strike him.

"Wait!" Sarah commanded, furrowing her brows. "This isn't fair!"

He cut her off before she could continue. "Fair, dearest Sarah? You ask for fairness, you ask for generosity… Very well. I _am_ feeling rather generous today. Relay to me your desire."

She brushed off the way he purred his last word, the way his eyes glittered, the slimy feeling she got when she looked at him. There would be plenty of time later to humiliate him as he'd humiliated her, when she held power over his death. And she intended to do all the damage she could, this time; she'd make sure he couldn't possibly come back.

"I won't stand a chance if you don't at least give me a _hint_ as to where to start looking for your death. Or…" she shouldn't ask, but couldn't help herself. "Show me Toby. I need to see Toby."

Jareth threw his head back and laughed, and Sarah was hit with the sinking, sick feeling that she had made the wrong choice.

"Oh, bravo, Sarah," he said, pinching the fingers of his right hand together. Sarah watched in despair as a fist-sized crystal appeared at his fingertips. Jareth was laughing at her—he had to be. She could think of no other reason for his sudden mirth.

She was doomed.

He tossed the crystal orb at her, and Sarah had to shift the broken bird into her left hand so she could catch the orb in her right. The crystal almost bounced off her fingertips, but she managed to catch it. She clutched it to her chest, feeling her heart hammer with the sudden panic that almost dropping it had brought on.

"Until next time," he said, and winked out of sight. Sarah stared wide-eyed, at the place where he stood moments before. He was gone. She was alone, save for the crystal and the bird, each held in a different hand.

"Show me," Sarah whispered, drawing the crystal up to her gaze. She didn't know how to finish the demand, unsure of which request Jareth had obliged—if any. The image came forward slowly, as if forming itself from smoke, but before long she was able to see Toby. He was oddly stretched and distorted—likely due to the curvature of the orb—but it was Toby, who didn't look happy at all, but Sarah didn't blame him; he sat on a chair Sarah recognized as bing from Jareth's supposed-to-be-ruined castle, sitting uncharacteristically still. Jareth probably ordered him not to move a muscle, Sarah thought with a frown. Of course that monster knew her brother's name. The free will Jareth afforded her seemed not to be extended to Toby.

She tried to feel bad that she'd squandered her clue but couldn't; at least she knew now that Toby was relatively safe, even if he was unhappy. If there was any other way to find Jareth's death, she would discover it. Giving up was not and never would be an option for her.

The bird in her hand twitched, and then shuddered, and Sarah was overcome with the sudden fear that it was going through its death throes. Instead, it looked up at her, opening and closing its beak. The bird looked irritated, or as irritated as a little bird possibly could.

It gave itself one more violent shake, and then a tiny woman-no taller than the length of Sarah's hand-was staring back up at her. She watched as the tiny woman tapped her own ears and then made a fluttering motion with her hands. Sarah took that to mean she wasted raised to ear-height, and so she complied.

"He released me from his binds, and I owe him an unkindness," the woman said, her voice tiny and wispy. Now that she was closer, Sarah could see that she was unclothed, her skin covered in raw and bleeding patches. Two tiny nubs on her back spoke to the wings that should have been there but weren't.

A fairy.

He'd torn the wings off a fairy.

Sarah's skin crawled.

"What did he _do_ to you?" she asked, lowering her voice when the fairy winced.

"Took my wings. Took my wild form with him so I cannot fly away. I owe him a grave unkindness," she repeated. Sarah nodded her head, understanding the sentiment. "I know where the hidden thing is buried."

 _Buried?_ Sarah raised a single eyebrow. She hadn't expected him to bury his death, but then again, she doubted he'd done it by hand.

"Will you take me to it?" Sarah asked. The fairy looked up at her, clearly exhausted and in pain. She reached behind her and touched the marks where her wings were once.

"I need to be made whole," the fairy said with a frown. Then her gaze steeled and she leaned against Sarah's thumb for support. "Give me water and bread to sup upon, and I will take you to where the hidden thing is buried," she commanded. "You will have to unearth is yourself."

Sarah nodded; it seemed like a fair trade, and she like the fairy, owed Jareth a great deal of pain.

"We have a deal. Is there something I may address you as?"

"Good girl, to not ask my name," she fairy smiled, patting Sarah's hand. "You may call me Hercinia, if I may call you Sarah. Unlike other monsters in the woods, I will not abuse your name."

Perhaps it was foolish to trust the fairy, but Sarah found herself wanting to. It was a welcome relief to have some other living creature know of at least some of her troubles.

"Thank you, Hercinia. I will take you home so that you can clean yourself up, and then we'll go and dig up Jareth's death. I promise to end him. He will never hurt either one of us again." She did not wait for a reaction from the fairy. Instead, she picked her way back through the trees, following the same feather out as she'd followed in. Now that she knew the damage the removal of those feathers had caused—and held it in her hand—it was difficult to look at them.

Still, she followed their glowing path out of the forest and back to her empty home. She sat Hercinia on her table and brought her a thimbleful of water and the bread she'd asked for, adding a clean scrap of fabric and a warm, shallow bowl of water so that she could tend to her wounds. While she waited, Sarah tried to keep herself busy so that she would not spend all of her time staring into the crystal. Toby was captured but safe, and she would have to be content with that until she dug up Jareth's death and won her brother back. With that in mind, she packed a small shovel, her gardening gloves, and a knife, just in case. Another glance at Hercinia and the light pink water in her bowl had her packing extra clean fabric for the fairy, just in case.

When she finished her self-imposed chores, Sarah looked back to Hercinia to see that the fairy had somehow created a gown out of the fabric she hadn't used as bandaging. Sarah winced in sympathy; the white fabric was a stark contrast to the red and raw patches of skin.

"There is a river some distance from here," said Hercinia, tightening the tie around her waist. "In the middle of this river is an oak tree, tall and wide but artificially young. There is a chest buried within its roots, and in that chest is the hidden thing we must take back."

"Does this river have a name?" Sarah asked, wishing magical creatures weren't so cryptic. She held her hand out so Hercinia could climb on, and then placed the fairy on her shoulder.

"I do not concern myself with the names mortals give things," Hercinia sniffed. "But it is large and to the west; I will lead you to it if you can acquire a beast of burden to carry you. You will not be able to walk with the haste I need."

Karl had a horse he might be persuaded to part with. Still, she didn't want to put him out or seem ungrateful; she grabbed a few pearls before she left her home.

An hour and too much haggling later (Karl still wanted to assemble a mob to hunt Jareth down, a thought that made Sarah shudder) Sarah set out on her new horse. Karl had employed his sense of irony and named the beast Kindness. Kindness wanted to do what Kindness wanted to do, and the mare showed no desire to rae anywhere in the growing dark. It took Hercinia crawling up to the horse's ear to whisper something to get Kindness to go any faster than a plodding walk.

Hercinia curled up on Sarah's shoulder, wrapping herself in Sarah's hair so she would not fall, and fell asleep. Sarah herself was too nervous to even think of sleep. Not only was she not accustomed to horses-a lesser concern in the scheme of things-but she was looking at the prospect of finally, _finally,_ being rid of Jareth. For good. The thought left her giddy and afraid at the same time; she knew he wouldn't go down without a fight, or at least a few underhanded tricks. She thought herself prepared for at least some of them, but it was the tricks he might have learned in the intervening years that worried her.

"West," Hercinia mumbled, still half asleep, and Sarah corrected Kindness's path. The sun had mostly set, but there was a sliver of orange glow lingering on the horizon for her to follow. At some point, perhaps sooner than she would wish, she knew she would have to stop and give both herself and Kindness a break. But as long as there was still light, Sarah wanted to keep moving. Sleep wouldn't come to her until she was thoroughly exhausted, anyway.

It was only when she found herself nodding off in Kindness's saddle that she realized she actually was that tired, and probably had been for some time. Sarah lead Kindness a safe distance away from the road and set up the most pathetic camp she'd ever seen. A fire was not possible-soldiers fleeing the front tended to roam at night, or so went the gossip back home.

"Sleep, human Sarah," Hercinia directed. If Sarah found the idea of a fairy lookout ridiculous, she did not say; she was already asleep under her saddle blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

She'd hoped that his death wouldn't be buried too far down, but with every strike of her shovel against the ground, her hopes were dashed. Already a foot deep and three wide, the hole she was digging showed no signs of relinquishing anything but tree roots or the occasional stone. It was exhausting both physically and emotionally; every time her shovel hit something solid, she flinched. And every time it was something of no consequence, her disappointment grew.

By the time the sun was at its midpoint in the sky, Sarah was worn out. Her hands hurt. Hercinia was agitated and upset at how long it was taking Sarah to dig, but offered no help. Sarah needed a sip of water and a bit to eat desperately, but was half afraid that if she paused in her work, she would be unable to resume.

That was when her shovel hit something solid. Instead of the dull _thunk_ of a stone or thick tree root, this strike sounded almost lyrical, like one of the church bells she could hear in town.

Sarah tapped the ground around her initial strike to make sure she was not mistaken and was rewarded with more bell-like tones. Whatever it was, it was large and solid.

"Hercinia," Sarah called. Her heart hammered, and not just because of her physical exertion. The ring of her shovel had a sense of finality.

"Pull it up, pull it up," urged the fairy, who sat atop Kindness's head. Sarah hopped down into the wide hole she dug and scraped at the dirt with her boot heel. From the dirt appeared a gleaming, solid surface that wasn't quite transparent. Sarah could see that there was something inside, and that that something was moving, but she was blind as to what it actually was.

"I'm not sure I can," she said with a frown. "But I think I can open it up." She used the shovel to dig a trench around the top of the chest, and when she found the seam between lid and wall, she used the shovel as a lever. Instead of the crystalline chest cracking open, or even shattering, Sarah found her trusty shovel head bent almost in half.

She stared at it in disbelief, and when staring at it didn't change anything, she held it up for Hercinia's inspection.

"It's spelled," the fairy said, her face twisted into an angry scowl. "Cheating bastard."

"Do you have any ideas, then?"

"A pass, a sacrifice, a key. His mind is myriad and broken; how am I to know the answers to his riddles?" Hercinia asked, shrugging her dainty shoulders. But there seemed to be no keyhole in which to turn a key, nor did Sarah see any engravings that might indicate even the slightest hint as to what to do.

"What do we know about him?" Sarah asked in turn, more to herself than the fairy. "He's… a liar. Vile. Malicious." She glanced up at Hercinia, taking note once more of the fairy's injuries. "Vengeful. He'll want blood."

"I've no more to give!" Protested the fairy. Her wing stubs fluttered in agitation.

"Not from you, I don't think," Sarah said with a shake of her head. The chest glinted up at her; she licked her lips and felt how chapped they were. She'd been working hard and felt weary to the bone.

But still, she knew what had to be done and was unable to ignore it. Sarah just hoped it wouldn't take much because she was tired of bleeding for Jareth and his whims.

Without letting herself think too much on it, Sarah bit the fleshy base of her thumb hard enough to draw blood. She watched it well to the surface of her skin before she wiped her hand on the chest. While she watched and waited, she pinched her broken skin to help stem the bleeding.

The chest sat in its earthen bed, the exposed parts of its surface glimmering in the sunlight. But it showed no signs of wanting to open or spontaneously sprouting any handles with which to pull it out. She glanced at Hercinia, who stared at the chest with rapt attention. Sarah sighed, wiped her brow with her good hand, and was prepared to call and end to her work for the day when she heard Hercinia gasp.

Just in time, Sarah turned back to the chest to see that it was… doing _something_. There was a sort of negative shimmer around where she smeared her blood, as if it was drawing in the light around it. And then it popped open, and the loose dirt still on the lid rained down around it.

Sarah was not sure what she was expecting to sit nestled within the chest. A sword perhaps. Some sort of bejeweled, ostentatious weapon that he might deign to die upon. A large gem or piece of fine metalwork, like he tried to ply her with all those years ago. Something lavish that spoke to his narcissism, or dangerous that would speak to what she intended to use it as.

What she did not expect was a rabbit.

Sarah stared down at the animal which sat, nose twitching, in the center of the crystal chest. It was large, like one of the ones she would have expected someone to farm so that they had meat in the winter. Its fur would make an exceedingly nice pair of mittens, given that it shared the same shimmering quality as the chest it came from.

But Sarah did not see how she was any closer to Jareth's death than she had hours ago, before she began her toil.

"Catch it!" Hercinia shrieked.

It was that noise that broke the spell. The rabbit dashed out of the chest, scrabbling for a moment to gain purchase at the lip of the hole Sarah dug. Sarah dove for it, but was still too slow; the rabbit was gone.

There was no going after it, as neither Sarah nor Hercinia could tell where it went once it hid in the underbrush. No amount of prodding could unearth it, and eventually Sarah had to admit that continuing to search was a lost cause. The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

"No matter," Hercinia said after some time. "I will have what is mine."

"What is _yours_?" Sarah asked, wiping her brow and succeeding only in smearing dirt through her sweat. She was not meant for catching rabbits with her bare hands.

"What is ours," the fairy amended. "It will be brought back; magic calls to magic, human Sarah. I can feel it out there. Faintly. But it is there. We will follow."

Hercinia seemed _so sure_ , and Sarah wanted to believe as well-but she thought it more likely that Jareth had sent her on a wild goose chase. Or a wild rabbit chase, as it was.

"If you say so," she said bitterly, turning back to the saddlebag Kindness was still wearing. Her thumb ached from where she bit it, but it had stopped bleeding not too long after her sacrifice. Within the bag she found the crystal, and she pulled it out, careful not to smudge it with her fingertips. Toby's profile greeted her, distorted by the sphere. He still looked afraid, and angry, and bespelled most of all, but he was still alive and unbloodied.

"Let's go," she finally said, wrapping the bauble back up and slipping it into the bag. "Can you still feel it? I do not want to waste time while we still have the sun."

"Are you not going to rest?"

Sarah cast a glance at the fairy. "Concern, really?" She blew out her cheeks with an irritated sigh. "I feel like I could sleep for a week. I hurt. But I am _angry_ and we must keep moving. There will be plenty of time to rest when he is dead."

Hercinia's mangled wing stumps fluttered, and Sarah couldn't tell if it was from irritation or excitement.

"Lead the way, as soon as we get off of this godsforsaken island. Please," Sarah added as an afterthought. Hercinia nodded solemnly, perching between the horse's ears and taking tiny fistfulls of mane.

* * *

There were more soldiers about than Sarah had ever anticipated. She took care to stray from the roads at night and rely on moonlight when she could, foregoing fires as to not draw attention to herself. She knew things were not going well. That there were bands of deserters looting and carousing as they pleased, but she had never expected to see them so far from the front lines. Hercinia had protested-loudly-the first time Sarah scooped her from between Kindness's ears and placed her in an oversized coat pocket. She doubted that the haggard soldiers marching home would notice the fairy, but she did not want to take her chances.

Hercinia grudgingly agreed.

"It is not far now," the fairy told her while they rested one evening. The sun, setting slowly, made her eyes seem to glitter. "I can feel it. It is stronger. And it has not moved for a long time; perhaps it found a burrow." The muscles along the fairy's back twitched again, and Sarah pretended not to notice. She sliced a small chunk of her apple off and handed it to the fairy, offering another, larger one to Kindness.

The fairy took her portion and patted Sarah's fingertip.

"You do not deserve this," she said, and when Sarah turned to look back down at her, Hercinia avoided her gaze.

"You didn't deserve what happened- _what he did_ -to you, either," Sarah said, shaking her head. The fairy hummed, and took a bite of the apple chunk.

"Still," she said, sounding far away. "Sleep, human Sarah," she fairy said, reaching out again for Sarah's fingertip.

"Hey," Sarah protested, feeling the magic tug at her eyelids while panic clawed at her throat. "Not… Fair."

"I will watch for marauding men," the fairy said. "Sleep."

But Sarah was already gone.

* * *

She woke with a headache, the aftereffects of struggling against a spell. Sarah wanted desperately to be furious with the fairy, to scream out her panic and the deep well of fear that resided in her at the magic she had used, but every time she felt a sharp retort settle on her lips, it quickly died away. Hercinia seemed anxious all morning, flighty and worried.

"Is it the rabbit?" Sarah asked instead.

"It has not moved. There is a field ahead of us. You will set a trap, and this will be over."

Sarah nodded, allowed Hercinia to climb onto her hand, and tied Kindness loosely to a tree. "We'll be back," she told the ornery horse.

She followed the fairy's guidance through the brush until she came across a wide field, slowly being retaken from human touch by the forest across the way. Patches of shorter, disturbed grass and bare spots of earth told her that there were vermin of varying sorts all through it. Sarah stooped, picked up a rock, and threw it where Hercinia pointed.

Immediately, something shimmering shot out from the burrow Sarah aimed at and took off for further into the field. Sarah stepped out to find it, reaching into her pocket with shaking fingers to find her sheathed knife.

From where it had disappeared into the tall grass, Sarah heard a very distinct scream.

"Shit," she breathed, urging herself to move. Somebody else had trapped the area, and if she did not move-quickly-she doubted that her luck would hold out long enough for her to take it unnoticed. And if she was caught poaching from somebody else, well…

She'd prefer not to think of it.

But that is where she was found anyway, crouched with her knees in the dirt next to the struggling rabbit, its back legs bound in rope by the trap someone else had set. It screamed and thrashed and when a hand came down, hard, on her shoulder, Sarah fought not to do the same thing. Instead, she made herself go still and quiet, pressing an elbow against the pocket Hercinia was hidden in.

"And what do we have here, hm?" A man said behind her, grabbing the collar of her goat and hauling her roughly up to her feet. Warnings, like the church bells that pealed out in the quiet mornings, clear and sharp, rang out through her mind. She _knew_ this voice. She knew it well, and yet…

"It is illegal, you know, to steal from His Majesty's troops."

Sarah's knees trembled, and she almost fell back to the ground in relief.

"Hanne," she breathed out, ignoring the way the rabbit twisted and turned in her arms. "Oh, Hanne."

She was glad to see Hanne; truly, she was, but Hanne's presence meant that she was far closer to the heat of the battles than she thought she was, than she'd ever hoped to be. And the coincidence of meeting again loomed in her mind; she thought that perhaps she should have been suspicious, or at least cautious, perhaps.

"I didn't mean to steal," she said, and then frowned, turning to face her former… What? Almost fiance. She found that she didn't have any words that particularly fit Hanne. Her _could-have-been_ , perhaps.

"Well, that isn't quite true," she amended. "But you see, I need this animal in particular. I wouldn't have stolen just anything."

"You are far from home," Hanne said, taking the rabbit from her hands, for which she was grateful. They still smarted from her hours of hard work and abuse.

"For good reason," she said, trying to smile at Hanne and failing. "It's Toby. He's…" Sarah paused and canted her head to the side, reminding herself to take deep breaths. "My trouble came back," she finished lamely. Hanne would understand. Had understood in the past.

"And the rabbit?" Hanne asked, hands firmly grasping the scruff of the animal, which now dangled stiffly in their hands from terror.

"Is a way of getting him back. I can explain when this is all… Done," she bit the inside of her lip. At an insistent poke from within the pocket hiding Hercinia, Sarah held out her hands, ignoring how red and raw they still looked. "I need to kill it, but you may have the meat and fur, if it would help."

Hanne hummed a note of pseudo understanding, even though Sarah knew that her words had to be gibberish to her could-have-been. But perhaps Hanne had grown accustomed to it because Hanne took the rabbit and snapped its neck. Sarah's only regret was that it had to have been in terror for so long.

"Let's keep your hands clean, Sarah, shall we?"

"Thank you," Sarah whispered, staring at the dead rabbit. "But I'm afraid it is too late for that."

Sarah Expected _something_ to happen once the rabbit was dead. Some burst of magic, or for the world to seem brighter-something, anything that would give her notice that Jareth was _dead_. But all that she could hear were the birds in the sky and her own ragged breathing. Her fingers twitched, and even though Hanne was watching her carefully, she dug out the orb that would show her her baby brother.

He was still there, still bespelled. Dark shadows built up under his eyes and he looked pale. But he was alive. Sarah grunted in hopeless frustration.

"Sarah," Hanne snapped, drawing her attention back to the soldier. The rabbit was glimmering again, even more than it had normally. And even though it was quite dead, it shuddered, its stomach distended and wriggling. Sarah felt distinctly sick.

She dug in her pocket-the one not hiding a fairy-and drew out her knife.

"Please hold it still," she asked Hanne, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. To Hanne's credit, they didn't ask questions-although at the way their lips were pursed, Sarah knew there were dozens of them piling up.

Sarah took the knife and made one quick, clean slice down the rabbit's chest and stomach. She and Hanne watched, horrified, as a small duck flopped out and landed at their feet. It sat still for a moment, reflecting the sun in a thousand different colors as it seemed to take stock of its situation.

And then before Sarah could think to react, to grab the new frustration, it took to its wings. Sarah bit back a scream of anger and she reached out, far too late, to grab her last hope of salvation.

It soared up into the sky.

And Sara heard the loud crack of a pistol, close enough to her ears that it left them ringing. The duck fell from the sky and landed not far from them in the field. Sarah blinked at where it landed and then turned at blinked at Hanne.

"You are the most curious woman I have ever met," Hanne said, piercing her with a look equal parts amused and deeply confused. Sarah shrugged, not sure what she could say.

"Shall we?" Hanne asked, offering her an arm. Feeling ridiculous and numb, Sarah took it and let herself be walked over to where the duck lay dead. _So much death_ , Sarah thought, hoping fervently that they were really just animals and not something in disguise like Hercinia.

Sarah stooped and traced her fingertips over the duck's feathers, looking for signs that this, too, would release something from within itself. But it did not move, and when Sarah moved to stand she almost missed the egg laying under the duck.

A bubble of commotion burst out from her pocket; Hercinia was shouting something, muffled, and clawing at the fabric confining her. With an apologetic glance at Hanne, Sarah offered Hercinia her hand.

"Don't you dare leave," Hercinia hissed, pounding a fist into the base of Sarah's thumb. It didn't hurt one bit, and Sarah couldn't tell if the fairy had been trying to anyway.

"It's there, I can feel it. Break the egg." Hercinia's back muscles clenched and then relaxed and tightened again, as if trying to work the wings that weren't there. Sarah complied. Hercinia and Hanne watched her press her nails into the thin shell until her fingertips broke through.

Inside was a yolk, as anyone would expect. A plan, ordinary yolk, utterly devoid of any hint of magic. Sarah stopped down into a crouch, deposited both Hercinia and the egg shells on the ground.

And then balled her hands into fists, pressed her knuckles to her mouth, and screamed.

Hanne ran a soothing hand down her back, crouched next to her. She wanted desperately to lean into the steady warmth that they offered, but forced herself to hold her own weight up.

"Break this," Hercinia demanded, brandishing a yolk-splattered needle in Sarah's general direction. She should have been more curious, should have cared about why and how the needle came to be hiding within a duck egg, but she was tired. Sore. Terrified.

Hanne plucked the needle from Hercinia's grasp and pried Sarah's knife from her grip delicately, using the blade as a fulcrum to bend the needle to its breaking point.

Hercinia watched, holding her breath. Sarah found hers stilled in her lungs as the two halves of the needle shimmered in the same way as the chest, and then the rabbit, and then the duck. Hanne held out his hand, allowing Hercinia to run her hands reverently along the edges of her severed wings.

"You lied to me," Sarah said, her voice small.


	5. Chapter 5

**Content warning** for: bolidy injury, nonconsentual touching.

* * *

She should have known better.

Magic was not to be trusted.

The one thing that she could have any faith in was Jareth; she knew that the moment she ventured into the forest, it was over. He would ensure that she found her way to him. That, if nothing else, she could trust.

Sarah ignored Kindness, still tied up at the campsite, and walked until her feet ached. She would get where she needed to be; and, when she found herself staring into a line of tall, dark trees, she knew she was there.

"Lead the way," she whispered to nobody in particular, and let the darkness swallow her up.

Oh, there was life around her; she could hear it. And it wasn't totally dark. Sunlight broke through the upper canopy to come resting in the underbrush in little spots. It was enough to keep her from tripping too badly on gnarled roots, but not enough that she could see Toby in the bauble Jareth gave her.

Still, she knew he was there.

"I'm coming, Toby," she whispered to it before slipping it back into the pouch she kept at her side. It wouldn't do her any good for now. She would see him soon.

* * *

Sarah stared up at the castle that she remembered from her childhood, the spires that haunted her dreams and the thick stone walls that offered no real safety. Some of them still bore the scars from the flames she set, and she wondered if it was his sick sense of pride that kept him from cleaning them.

The front doors, heavy and wooden and laden with decades of dust, swung open. She accepted their invitation and climbed the stairs to meet them, her mouth set in a thin line. Before she took that final step through them, however, she stopped and turned, looking out into the forest. If things went according to his plan-which she had no reason to hope that they wouldn't-she doubted she'd ever see outside of the scarred stone walls again.

Sarah swallowed hard and backed into the castle, keeping her eyes on the dappled sunlight and verdant blooming of the forest floor. The doors swung shut. She closed her eyes. And when she felt the floor shift under her feet, she kept them closed and tried to keep her breathing even.

"After all these years," Jareth said, and Sarah felt whatever remaining warmth she had left from the sun vanish from her skin. "Are you not happy for this reunion? Your brother is here. Open your eyes, Sarah."

She did, and could not tell if it was because she wanted to or because he used her name. She barely recognized the bedroom she'd poisoned Jareth and hoped to have killed him in. This, at least, was restored; her memories of it were hazy, but she thought it looked even more opulent than it had before. But it was not the mother-of-pearl details on the floor that caught her attention, or the gold and silver vines twining together on the walls.

"Toby," Sarah whimpered.

Toby was sitting on the same chair she last saw him, not visibly bound but still unable to move. He looked as tired as she felt. She wondered if he'd been fed properly. Sarah reached out to him, both hands extended and stretching, but before she could take her first step, she found herself captured.

Jareth's gloved fingers twined around hers, his fingertips biting into the back of her hands.

"No," Sarah said firmly, trying to pull out of his grasp. "You don't-no. Let Toby go. Let me see Toby." She scrambled away from Jareth, firmly aware that she was only able to do so because he _let her_. Sarah threw herself at Toby, alternating between holding his face in her hands and smoothing back his hair.

"Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

There was a pause as Toby seemed to consider her questions. "No," he said simply, his voice harsh. She wondered if he'd been allowed to speak at all the entire time he'd been captive.

"We have been catching up on lost years," Jareth said, and Sarah tensed as she felt his hands run through her hair. The sharp tug was not unexpected, but still deeply unwelcome; she bit her tongue to keep from crying out at the burst of pain.

"You are a cruel woman, to have stolen them so callously, Sarah." Jareth looked down at her, impassive to the tears welling in her eyes. Instead, he seemed transfixed by her throat, tracing the line of her artery down from her neck to her chest with his free hand.

"Don't," Sarah said, ashamed to hear the plea in her own voice. His roving fingers paused, but did not pull away. She was grateful for small blessings.

"You are filthy," he said, over enunciating the last word. His eyes broke from hers for a moment, as if surveying his surroundings, but then flicked back to her. "Tobias, busy yourself elsewhere. It is time you left the adults."

Sarah watched in horror as Toby stood stiffly and marched out of the room, his arms bound tight to his sides.

"No! Toby!" Sarah called out after him, hampered in her movement to follow him by the hand still gripping her hair.

" _Quiet_ , Sarah," Jareth hissed, as Sarah gaped noiselessly, her angry retort dead in her throat before it met her lips. _What happened to not forcing me to do anything?_ She wanted to spit at him. Robbed of her voice, she narrowed her eyes at him hatefully. It didn't do much.

Ignoring the anger she was sending his way, Jareth drew his hand back up to trace her cheek before letting go of her hair and turning away from her. Released from his grip, she slumped to the ground and curled in on herself, pressing her forehead to her knees and wrapping her arms around her head and neck. She wanted to ask him to send her brother home, to let her take the brunt of his anger and whatever revenge he'd dreamed up over the years; after all, it _was_ all her. Toby had been an infant, and if any of the creatures that had helped her were still alive-well, they were animals. But she remained silent because he had not given her voice back.

Sarah only looked up when she heard the sloshing of water.

"She rises!" Jareth said in mock-or perhaps genuine-glee. She couldn't tell, and refused to look him in the eyes; instead, she focused on the copper tub that had appeared suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of the room. Steam tendrils rose from its surface, and Sarah shuddered in sick dread.

"Disrobe," he said, looking at the bath instead of her. "And if you are good, perhaps I will help you wash."

Sarah wanted to kill him all over again, but she couldn't say so, so she remained on her knees and glared up at him. _No_ , she mouthed at him, relieved that she could still do that much, at least.

" _Sarah_ ," he snarled at her, and that was enough; her muscles contracted and moved against her will, and although she tried to fight it, she stumbled towards the bath. Her satchel came off first, and she heard the crunch of the bauble breaking.

 _Good_ , she thought viciously. It wasn't any good to her now anyway, not that it seemingly ever had been. She was less pleased when her shaking fingers scratched against her bare skin, tearing at her sleeves and neckline. Angry tears burned in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away; the last thing she wanted was for him to have proof of how horrified she was. Her clothes fell to the floor with an unceremonious whisper of fabric.

As quickly as she could, she submerged herself in the water, heedless of how hot it was, wanting something beyond empty air to separate her bare skin from his gaze; not that the water helped. Sarah ignored the way her skin turned a mottled pink from the heat and kept her gaze down, aimed at the far rim of the copper tub.

"Good," he crooned at her like she was a particularly obedient dog. She kept her face as clear of emotion as she could manage, and only flinched once when she felt his hands come down again upon her head. He ran his fingers through her hair softly, reverently, and it made her nauseous. If it had been someone, anyone else, it might have been nice. Instead, every nightmare she'd ever had-the ones where he screamed at her, a burning, charred corpse; the ones where he ate her whole; the ones where he crawled atop her and whispered filth into her ears-bubbled to the surface.

Jareth smoothed something through her hair that smelled warm and flowery, and she knew that she'd hate it for the rest of her life, however long that might be.

"You see, Sarah, there was no need for any of your theatrics. Breath," he said, and that was the only warning he gave her before he put his hands on her shoulders and forcibly shoved her under the water. Sarah was dragged back up sputtering and gasping for air, hair hanging lank in front of her face.

Pale hands appeared and pulled it back as if opening a curtain to let sunlight in, and Sarah's heart almost stopped within her chest. It shouldn't have mattered-there was very little that could make the situation more degrading, more violating than it already was-but the fact that he'd discarded his gloves and was _touching her_ , bare skin to bare skin, was somehow worse.

She wanted, so desperately, to scream. His hands- _ungloved_ , she reminded herself frantically-wrung the water and remaining soap from her hair before he twisted it around his fingers and pinned it up to keep it out of the water. The pin scraped against her scalp unpleasantly, and while she doubted it drew blood, she would be unsurprised if it left a trail of red, angry skin in its wake.

His hands skimmed over her shoulder and down her arm, down to her abused and chapped hands. While she lay limply in the water praying for death-she doubted he would let her drown-he picked her hand up and held it in his own. The contrast was stark.

"This needn't have happened, you know." He traced her scarred heart line with his finger, only digging his nail in a little bit. He had reached around her rather than placing himself to the side, so her peripheral vision was wholly taken up by him. In front of her was her own hand, pressed against his as he inspected her hurts. The back of her head was pressed up against his chest, and when he spoke, she felt his chin brush against her momentarily.

 _Should I be able to feel a heartbeat?_

She couldn't.

"While I could heal these, dearest, I think I'll let you keep them; it shall serve as a reminder of lessons learned, hmm?" He dropped her hand. Her arm fell back into the tub with a splash and he leaned back; Sarah thanked the heavens for the brief reprieve.

But cursed them again as soon as he assaulted that same arm with a bar of soft soap, bearing the same scent as whatever he'd used in her hair. He drew it up to her collarbone and towards her neck, and when he started moving downwards, she stopped breathing.

Unable to scream the vile curses at him that she wanted to, she settled for grabbing his wrist and squeezing as hard as she thought she might be able to get away with. She shook her head, slowly, barely. Just enough to get across her message.

She saw his fingers twitch and hoped he wasn't imagining wrapping them around her neck. Instead, he dropped the soap into the water and leaned back.

"As stubbornly independent as always, Sarah. Until you _need something_." He ran his fingers through her wet hair again, not pausing when he hit snags. Sarah winced as he ripped through the knots in her hair. "Do not forget that when you came here, pitiful and pleading, it was I who offered you sanctuary and soothed away your troubles. I was, and remain, generous. I expect reciprocation."

He hissed the last part into her ear; Sarah felt his breath against her cheek.

She wanted to tell him that murder was not generous. That his threats and awful promises were the root of her troubles. But she couldn't. Instead, shaking and wanting to slip out of her own skin, she leaned back slowly until the top of her head bumped against his chest again. His expression was twisted into a sneer, almost imperceptibly softening as she blinked up at him. Despite her best efforts, her hands still trembled as she reached up to him. Not that she had a plan or an end destination in mind; but she was saved having to make a decision when he took her hands in his and laced their fingers together.

When he leaned down to deposit a kiss on her right collarbone-with teeth; she wondered if the bite would bruise-the expression he returned with was one of feral hunger.

"You may speak," he said smoothly, standing as he did so. Sarah ignored his roving eyes. "There are many things I must attend to. Staff to find. An evening to prepare. Ungrateful though you may be, now that you have returned, you will want for nothing."

 _Except my voice. My free will. Freedom._ Sarah sunk lower into the tub, and wondered if he was expecting a response.

"Thank you," she mumbled after a long hesitation, lips just barely above the water. Her voice cracked, and she wondered how he would choose to interpret it.

The door opened, and then shut behind her.

What she wanted to do-barring slipping a dagger into whatever vital organ would finally, finally kill him-was sit in the water until it grew cold and she grew wrinkled. But Toby was somewhere outside, and while she didn't want to be anywhere near Jareth, she also didn't want to risk him being anywhere near Toby. She scrubbed at her skin until it was red and raw, especially wherever he touched her.

It was with little surprise that she found something to wear sitting out for her, the clothing that she came in having disappeared. She grit her teeth and climbed into what could only charitably be considered a gown; it seemed to be made up entirely of lace, with little backing to it. After a brief consideration, she tore a blanket off of the bed and wrapped herself in it as well. Her wet hair hung down her back, leaving little water trails wherever she walked.

The door was unlocked, mercifully, and she stepped barefoot out into the corridor only to have it warp around her; the walls and floors melted to different colors until they settled again, resolidified under her feet into what she thought she recognized as the main hall. The heavy doors were open, offering a tantalizing view of the outside world.

"I'm okay," Toby said immediately, and Sarah stepped out to see him sitting on the smallest of three thrones arranged on the lawn, not far from the castle doors.

"Good," she said, her voice still dry and brittle. He slouched where he sat, which Sarah took to mean that he was no longer actively under Jareth's control. "You need to go home, Toby. Leave here, as soon as you can. I've got silver buried in the garden-you can use that, move, set up a new life or-"

"I'm not leaving you," he said, his expression wreathed in pity and fear. "I don't know what's going on."

"You don't need to," Sarah said, shuffling closer to him. "It's me that he wants-my fault, all mine. I should have told you long ago, before this ever happened. My fault." A tear slipped down her cheek and she hated it, hated to let Toby see her cry, hated even more that Jareth was no doubt skulking about and would likely see it too. "But it's done now, and I need you to go and live a good life. Stay out of the war."

She grabbed his hands in both of hers and held them, looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, but she wasn't sure if she was addressing him or his mismatched gaze. Or herself. Or all at once.

"There is a man, if you can find him. Hanne-he's a Lieutenant, and he can help you out. Karl can-Karl can probably help you find an apprenticeship somewhere else."

Toby's gaze flicked from her to something behind her, and his expression turned stony. Sarah straightened herself and prepared for the worst.

"Plotting again, Sarah? You should know by now that it does you little good." He ran a hand down her spine, and Sarah was offered only a small measure of relief from the blanket she'd draped around herself for modesty.

"If you were cold, you should have said something first; I am confident that we could have found something to warm you up." A hand settled on the small of her back.

Toby pulled a face at the suggestion and innuendo, but Sarah felt her own go slack. Numb. She had to be numb, make herself go completely numb if she was going to survive any of this without going utterly mad.

"Please send Toby home. To _his_ home," she corrected, standing and turning so that Toby was blocked from Jareth's sight. Jareth's back was to the forest, but there was something-Sarah squinted-the underbrush was rustling.

Jareth grinned down at her smug, satisfied that he'd won. Pulling her gaze away from the forest, Sarah supposed that he had. Finally. Her shoulders drooped, and she pulled the blanket around her tighter.

"Say that I have won. Say that you have given up." His hands held her face and he smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. More tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but that didn't seem to bother him at all.

"I never found your death," Sarah admitted, conceding as much as she was willing to. Jareth rested his forehead against hers, still grinning his predator grin. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see him, disgusted enough that she had to share his breath.

"Oh, but you have. As generous as I am, I granted _both_ of your wishes with my gift; it is you fault if you did not make the connection."

Sarah thought back to when he gave her the bauble. What had she asked for? _Give me a hint, show me Toby_.

Her eyes snapped open to see him leaning back from her now, smiling wildly and showing more of his pointed teeth than she thought was strictly possible.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head and trying to back away.

" _Yes_ ," he hissed. "And so, my final gift: a choice to you, Sarah." He pressed a small knife into her hand. It had a thin blade, perfect for gouging an eye out.

Blind her brother-likely kill him, in the end-to win her freedom, or submit herself to Jareth.

"No," she whispered, staring down at the knife in her hand. Her vision became hot and blurry with tears that had finally decided to fall.

"When-" But she didn't need to ask, not really; it had been there the whole time. Staring out at her though Toby's swollen pupil, ever since _Jareth_ had hidden it there when he was an infant. She looked up at him, ignoring Toby's footsteps behind her.

She parted her trembling lips to say that he'd won, that she couldn't hurt her brother-of course she couldn't. He knew that.

And then from the forest behind Jareth she saw a tiny shape dart out. Followed by a man in a military uniform. The bottom of her stomach dropped out. Her heart broke. She closed her eyes and weighed her options. Pause, and let Hercinia and Hanne get caught up in everything.

Or end it.

She dropped the knife. It fell harmlessly in the grass between herself and Toby.

"Okay," she breathed out. He grabbed, her drawing her close to him. The gown he'd provided offered little protection, and she could feel things from his she'd never wanted to; she was disgusted to feel that he was thoroughly enjoying her situation.

"But, please. Please. Let everyone here go home. Safely." She wetted her lips and tried not to be sick. "I choose this. I choose… you."

Her gaze held Hanne, making sure he'd heard her. _Go_. She mouthed at him. _Take Toby home_.

"No!" Toby protested.

Jareth grinned.

Hercinia darted forward, Hanne following as closely behind as he could. Sarah, her heart racing in terror, did the only thing she could think of to make sure that Jareth was distracted enough to let Hanne take Toby away.

She reached up to him with both hands, grabbed his face, and pulled it down to meet her own.

Their lips met in a click of teeth and their noses crashed together, but Jareth seemed not to care. He growled and grabbed the back of her head, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to bruise. Sarah gasped in pain, and he used the opening to snake his tongue in, pressing his knee between her thighs at the same time and grinding.

He dragged her down to the ground when she didn't respond the way he wanted, ripping the blanket away from her and tearing at the neckline of her gown. Above her, his weight settled onto her hips and legs.

"Not here, not in front of-" it was difficult to speak around her already swelling lip, harder still as he pressed aggressive kisses against her throat. She'd submitted, yes, but not for _this_ , not in front of Toby and Hanne and Hercinia. He growled at her again, splaying a hand across her stomach, questing lower-

And then, he stopped.

Sarah cracked open her eyes, lashes stuck together through her tears. His weight did not disappear, but she felt his muscles tense.

Hercinia held the knife with all of her strength, and Toby was holding his eye open with both hands, offering the tiny fairy a wider target. Hanne stood behind Toby as if bracing himself to prepare for the boy's fall.

" _No!_ " Sarah screamed, struggling against Jareth's weight; he seemed to be frozen in disbelief, rage plastered across his face.

Hercinia darted forward, driving the blade of the knife into Toby's left eye. Toby screamed in pain, dropping to his knees, and Hanne comforted him, drawing out the knife-with his eye, and Sarah screamed along with him incoherently-while Hercinia shimmered with magic.

Jareth had stopped moving, but Sarah, not paying any mind to him, shoved him off and scrambled closer to Toby. She did not pause to think about how he did not try to stop her. She could not think about anything beyond tearing off portions of her skirt to provide something of a bandage for Toby, pressing it against the hollow where his eye was as she sobbed, and he sobbed, and they sobbed together.

Hercinia helped to quench the bleeding; Sarah felt the magic in the air around her. It settled like oil on her skin and coated her tongue unpleasantly, but it was staunching the bleeding and seemed to be easing Toby's pain. Eventually, Sarah realized that _she_ was the one making the keening noises as she smoothed Toby's hair back from his bloodied face.

Hanne drew her away with careful, gentle hands, draping her in the blanket that had been torn from her. He would not let her see her brother as Hanne worked on him, murmuring comfort to the boy and praises and "you are very, very brave."

Eventually, he paused, distracted by Sarah's wails.

"Fairy..." he said, trailing off.

There was a burst of magic, and Sarah slept.


End file.
